Fragile
by reallybodmin
Summary: What could have happened if S1E4 (The Portwenn Effect) was just a bit different?
1. Chapter 1

FRAGILE

Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures. This is a work of fiction only and not for sale. No copyright infringement intended.

Here is my take on what could have happened if S1E4 (The Portwenn Effect ) was just a little different and if the Doc and Louisa, especially the Doc, were just a bit introspective.

Chapter 1

Martin

What a day, I thought as I walked toward the dance after my afternoon appointment with Stewart the ranger and his "friend" Antony. I had to find Mark Mylow and we would need to go and get Stewart sectioned as soon as possible in the morning. I would just have to leave a note for Elaine to reschedule my early appointments.

I dreaded going into that dance like the plague. Having to push my way through those villagers groping and gyrating! Oh well, best to get it done quickly, I thought. Outside the beautiful night was marred by couples engaged in matters best left at home and inside was a mess. I could already see it from the doorway.

Good grief it was loud in there! Didn't these people have any concept of a safe volume? Why was it necessary to have music as loud as you possibly could and lights so low as to make slips and falls almost a certainty? I just wanted to find Mark as quickly as possible and get out of there. And then, oh great. There he was, with an arm around Louisa and she was speaking into his ear. I didn't want to see that. Then she looked up and caught my eye. She frowned. I decided to get out of there and just call Mark early in the morning.

But of course my Auntie Joan had to stop me and make some remark alluding to her thoughts that I have some attachment to Louisa. I really wish she would stop that. There is no reason for her to believe there is anything between Louisa and me. Sometimes I feel as if she can read my thoughts but of course she can't! She made some remark about me having an odd look on my face as I was looking at Louisa and Mark. Odd! I didn't know what on earth she was talking about.

As I walked out and pushed through the couples to make my way home, her words made me think. "Odd," she had said. "An odd look." And for some unknown reason, something that Stewart said today popped into my mind. Referring to himself, Stewart had said something about being a tiny bit "fragile". But if you were fragile, he said, Portwenn was the place to be. Was I fragile? Was there something odd about the way I was?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Louisa

Well, I had asked for it. Martin refused the tickets to the dance, Mark Mylow had come right up and for some reason I had opened my fat mouth and asked him to go instead. What was I thinking - that Martin would be jealous? As if! But I would go and make the best of it. Mark wasn't so bad. A bit dreary, but still - nice.

So I had gone. I wore my red dress because it is fun to dance in and I like the way it looks but secretly, like some young girl with a crush, I was hoping that Martin would see me in it. I thought I had noticed that he always looked my way more when I was wearing red. Probably just my imagination. But maybe, somehow he would show up at the village hall and put his arms around me and dance. I would love to feel his arms around my waist, lay my head on his shoulder.

I'm being silly I thought. I remember thinking about things like this when I was still in school. Enough already! Concentrate on having fun, on keeping it light, I told myself. And so I began my walk up the hill to the village hall. It was a lovely night and, as usual, lots of villagers were headed toward the hall.

I ran into Mark on the way and he had made me feel very good with his smiles and the obvious appreciation in his eyes. Why couldn't Martin smile at me like that, I questioned. The few times that I had seen his lips curl slightly on the ends and his eyes crinkle just a bit, in his version of a smile, were things I sometimes reviewed in my mind before I fell asleep at night.

Wait, Louisa, stop! I told myself. This is ridiculous. You are with Mark. I smiled and we went in to the dance. I realized fairly quickly that this evening held a very different significance for Mark than it did for me. I was having a great time dancing, but I knew I would have to have a talk with Mark at some point. I didn't want him thinking that this was a real date. He is very nice, and has a gentle manner, but…. he's goofy. He clearly enjoyed dancing though. I was old enough to know to appreciate that in a man - too many of them wouldn't dance for love nor money! And, boy, did he seem to enjoy it - dipped me and everything.

But then, wouldn't you know it, I was speaking directly into Mark's ear, facing the rear of the hall and I saw that Martin was there. He looked directly at me and I at him. Inside I thrilled to see him and then a burst of fear settled in my stomach. He would think Mark and I were getting into a relationship. Surely he would know me better than that by now.

Almost as suddenly as he entered, Martin turned to go. I saw him speak briefly with his Aunt Joan but then he was out the door, his tall frame filling up the doorway as he walked away. What was he thinking now, I wondered, and why had he shown up at all?

Later, when someone came to get Mark to help with Stewart, I understood and was a bit disappointed actually. I guess a tiny part of me had hoped that Martin had come to look for me.

Silly woman!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Martin

Dear God this village was crazy! There they had stood, a small crowd watching helplessly as a dementing man cleared out someone's back garden. And of course it became MY fault. By the time Mark arrived, Louisa in tow, Stewart was gone and we all called it a night.

At least Louisa did say good night to me. I was a bit embarrassed with what some of the villagers were saying and I hoped Louisa wasn't going to think badly of my skills as a doctor after what had happened. I knew she didn't think well of my "bedside manner" but I would think by now she surely knew that I wouldn't withhold medication from someone if they clearly needed it - that there would be some reason for what had happened with Stewart.

Then I had begun my walk home. I always held my head up high and back perfectly straight as I walked, just as I had been taught as a boy. However tonight, as I reached the harbour area, I felt my shoulders slump a bit and I slowed down my walk and eventually stopped. The thoughts came back into my mind - fragile, odd. I must really be tired, I thought. Too many nights taken up with dreams of Louisa, awakening and listening for the swishing sound of the ocean when I opened the window for a breath of air.

Get over it Ellingham, I thought. As if a woman like that would ever want you. Grouchy, obnoxious, rude prat - yes I knew all of the words people had used to describe me for years. No one had ever much cared for me, except Auntie Joan and Uncle Phil of course. As I grew up everyone else thought I was "too" something - too babyish, too whiny, too immature, too opinionated, on and on. Was I? Oh tosh, the lot of it! And fragile? Certainly not!

But then an image had come into my mind as I stood near the water's edge looking up into the night sky. An image of me, dressed in scrubs, sitting on a bench in the doctor's area off the operating theater. Head in hands, looking down, and feeling as though I was going to cry.

I swallowed. I didn't have time to be thinking about such nonsense! Then I straightened my back, pushed the thought away and went home.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Martin

My goodness how my life has changed, I thought. I used to have order, have people waiting with bated breath to hear my opinions and diagnoses. Now here I was, seemingly in a village of lemmings, and with visitors who waltzed in and changed my life.

I had just left my Auntie Joan's home after she finally finished crying on my shoulder. It seemed that her old love, John Slater, had come back to see her after many years and she had fallen for him again. Then, when I told him his life would soon come to an end, he unselfishly lied to her so that she wouldn't have to "nurse another dying man," I think he said.

She had come to me at one point during this "saga" and told me something I never knew. She told me that my father had somehow found out about her affair and she had sent John away many years ago, partly because of her husband but partly because of me. Me. She had loved me so much that she had turned her whole life upside down just for my benefit. Of course, I told myself, having an affair was definitely NOT the right thing to do, but she had evidently figured that out for herself.

But the thought that someone, anyone, had made a huge sacrifice of any type for me was…. unbelievable. And then it seemed that it hadn't made any difference after all. My father would no longer let me visit her anyway, accusing her of "gross moral turpitude."

I had finally decided, after yet another sleepless night, that I needed to tell Joan what I knew - that John had let her go because of his health. And thus the tears now wetting my suit jacket. I wondered if she would try to find him, now that she knew the truth. Doubtful, I thought.

As I drove back to the surgery, I wondered why it was that dealing with others was so complicated? That is why I loved my clocks. Sitting alone in peace was certainly preferable to all of the messes people seemed to get themselves into. Marriages, at least the ones I had seen most closely, seemed fraught with strife, an inability to keep vows, and a setup for raising children who then became just as dysfunctional as their parents.

Yet, Joan and Phil's marriage had somehow survived her betrayal. No children, but I had no idea of the reason for that. Perhaps infertility? But did Auntie Joan really love Phil when she went back to him, or had she gone back for the wrong reasons? What were the right reasons? They had always seemed happy when I had been with them during summers. Were they, or was it all an act? And if an act, were they even aware that it was an act?

I had no plans whatsoever to marry or to have children. Once I had thought of marriage but when that went awry, I left all of that behind me. I liked my life. It was ordered, peaceful.

However, I was becoming disturbed that Louisa Glasson was interrupting my thoughts more and more of late. Sometimes even when I was working on a clock. Her smile would swim before me, making me stop what I was doing and inhale, trying to pick out the fragrance that was uniquely her. As if she was in the room with me - wishing she was. Good God. I was doing it again. Thinking of her. This had to stop.

As I entered the surgery, I grunted at Elaine, she rolled her eyes at me, and we began another day in Portwenn.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Louisa

I walked into the house, my mind whirring, running through the events of the last two days. I REALLY needed some sleep, I thought, but no time yet. I had to go and visit Peter Cronk in hospital. I had phoned his mother and gotten the news that he was doing well but I still wanted to see for myself. Also, the trip to Truro would give me a chance to think about what had happened yesterday and, really, the night before.

I had been so upset when Peter fell during our time outside at school. He really did have a difficult time with the other children at school but I still thought he needed to "get the heart beatin'" as I had told him. But still, his fall had gotten me quite nervous and Martin's subsequent rudeness and the trip for an x-ray hadn't helped.

Then when Peter's mum had phoned during her panic attack and I ran over to their home I felt so guilty. Silly, I know. I mean, I am his teacher but when a child gets hurt reason goes out of the window. When I got there and realized how bad things really were and called an ambulance, I felt quite terrified. Having Martin arrive on the scene had quieted me a lot, but I was still very afraid and flustered.

Then there was the ambulance ride. That was horrible in some ways, special in others. I was amazed at Martin's skill under pressure. Is there a finer doctor in the U.K.? I really wondered at this point. And his tenderness when apologizing and talking to Peter - not the normal Martin I knew at all. His whole face seemed to change - he was more relaxed somehow and not so stiff - the way he usually looked.

But I guess the story he told of how his haemophobia developed was what really made me feel so much closer to him. Seeing his vulnerability. Him actually allowing me to see it - I could hardly believe it. And then when he asked the A&E medic if he had a blade and I realized that he was actually going to operate, I was so in awe of his committment to his young patient.

I thought back on those moments carefully. He had looked at me, just for a moment, as if he was asking me if he should do it. I nodded because I had EVERY confidence that he could do it if he made up his mind to do so. Did he actually rely on me for an answer at that point or was it just my imagination? Were the subsequent happenings marring my true memories? I paused. I didn't think so.

At that moment before he actually made his incision, there was something, some special look on his face. What was it? Fear? No, not so much. Embarrassment? Maybe. No, I thought. It was not quite embarrassment. But perhaps….a touch of fragility? Martin - fragile? He always seemed the ultimate in strength to me. But perhaps I had leapt to the conclusion that so many others had. Maybe he really was….fragile.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Louisa

I pondered these thoughts all the way to the hospital. When I arrived, it was so good to see Peter smiling and talking that it put the things that had happened next out of my mind for the first time that day. What a relief to see Peter like this! When I thought of the things we would be doing today if not for Martin's skill, I was a bit overwhelmed. Thank God, I thought again for at least the tenth time that day.

At last it was time to leave - I really did need rest - and I walked quickly to the door. As I walked I kept my head down so as not to see Mr. Pitts, Peter's surgeon. I didn't think I could stand to see that smug young man ever again! How dare he talk so maliciously about Martin? Apart from anything else, couldn't he realize that his own success, in part, was due to Martin's skill and teaching ability!

Thankfully I got back to my car without running into him. I sat for a moment and took a few deep breaths. Just the thoughts of that young doctor had my heart racing. I needed to stop getting so wound up about things having to do with Martin, yet I felt I could have happily smacked the young surgeon's face without any more provocation!

Ridiculous Louisa, I scolded myself. You are wound up because of what happened on the cab ride home. Martin and I had talked. I really wanted him to open up even more now and hoped he would do so. Ever since we had talked after his interview for the position in Portwenn and he had come up with my glaucoma diagnosis, there was something about him. What was it? I could never put my finger on it. There was just something about him that was so…. so….what? Oh it frustrated me! I could never say just what it was but something drew me to him.

And it made absolutely no sense. He wasn't my type at all. Was he? What was my type? Martin was rude and a total pillock so much of the time. But then there were the moments, little moments like last night when I sensed that there was so much more below the surface and something drew me in to want to know more.

My mind went slowly back to the memories of that cab ride. That wonderful, horrible cab ride! After we had talked a bit, I had lowered my hand to the seat beside of his. I hoped that he would at least take the initiative to hold my hand after all that we had been through. But he waited. And waited. And just when I thought I couldn't take it any more he touched me and, I couldn't help myself. I kissed him. I turned red in the car just thinking of that kiss. And when it was over, he kissed me. He put his hand toward me and kissed me like I had never been kissed before. It was like he was a parched man whose thirst was at last being quenched. I have never felt quite like that before in my life.

I was so happy. Obviously he felt the same pull toward me that I had been feeling toward him. But then he spoke. He spoke. Oh if only he hadn't spoken. He started banging on about me having bad breath. He spouted a bunch of medical terms that I barely heard because my brain was spinning. One moment we were in a world of our own, and the next I was jolted out and knocked on the floor.

I just wanted out of that taxi. No, better yet, I thought, I wanted him out of that taxi! I thought we were making progress, getting closer but obviously not if he could even think about medical terms during a kiss like that! Good grief my breath couldn't be that bad, could it? I asked him if he was serious, told him that certainly I had a "regular dental hygiene routine."

I turned my head away from him. He fell silent. What was wrong with him? Why was he so rude at times? And so kind at times - I remembered him talking to Peter. I took a few deep breaths.

I turned to him and told him that he I was really angry and my feelings were hurt. I asked him why in the world would he say something like that right after a kiss? Especially a kiss like that!

He had looked straight ahead then and asked me what I meant when I said "a kiss like that." I had then proceeded to tell him that I had quite enjoyed the kiss. "Very much enjoyed it," I had said. And then I had told him that I knew for sure that I wasn't thinking about anything like medical terms when I was having a kiss like that and I didn't understand how he could.

He had finally turned to me. I turned to him. He began to soften his voice and tell me that he had not meant to anger me or hurt my feelings. He couldn't help thinking like a doctor, he had said.

"Even during a kiss like that?" I had asked him.

He blushed. Yes, thinking back I was sure that he had blushed then. He apologized and said that it was so ingrained that, yes he thought that way even during a kiss, and then he had begun to mumble something that sounded like he hadn't had very many kisses.

Fragile. The word popped into my mind again and I stopped feeling so angry and hurt. I realized that this brilliant man must be frustrated quite a bit. No wonder he had trouble interacting with others if he thought like a doctor all of the time. And for sure he was angry a lot, I already knew that. So, despite what I would have liked to do, I had told Martin that I forgave him.

I had chanced a look at him at that moment and his whole body relaxed. I saw it happen. It made me realize that, although I, and most other people I knew, looked at Martin and saw a brilliant man who was perfectly strong and in control, underneath there was another person peeking out timidly from behind a big wall. And if I could make it to that space back there with him, I might just find out what it was that was attracting me.

Because I suspected that whatever "it" was, lay behind the wall.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Louisa

So, I had told Martin that I would very much like for him to come to my home for a meal. Not that night, of course, but the next. I smiled a bit and said that I would be sure to brush my teeth so that he wouldn't have to worry anymore.

He frowned at that, embarrassed, I think. But he agreed to come. At my request, he told me that he preferred low fat, low carbohydrate meals and he would be happy to bring part of the meal himself if I would like. I assured him that was unnecessary and thanked him for the information, telling him it would help in my planning.

I finally arrived back home as I finished thinking about all that had happened. Peter would be out of hospital in a few days, his mother had said. I needed some sleep badly. I went upstairs and began to get ready for bed even though there was some marking I had planned on doing. It would have to wait. I was just too tired.

But then when I lay down, I couldn't fall asleep. At first, I was planning the next evening's meal in my mind. Then I began to think about those kisses. Big mistake! His soft mouth closing over mine. His thumb caressing my cheek. The way he had looked into my eyes. The amount of emotion I sensed from him. I know I had felt myself drowning in him for a moment. I relived that one special moment. Right before he opened his mouth to speak. He was so strong, wasn't he? I could feel the strength, but I could sense the vulnerability.

What would it be like when he was in my home tomorrow? Would I be able to cook something that he would like? Would he relax or would he be the uptight, rude man that I sometimes experienced? I wanted to see the man I sensed but I wondered how to bring him out.

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The next day I was nervous at school. I was short-tempered with the children which was not like me at all. Then I kept going over menus in my mind, trying to decide what would be best. And through it all I kept wondering if I could bring out the Martin I had glimpsed in that ambulance and that taxi. It was making me crazy!

At long last the school day was over. I had stopped by the greengrocer's to purchase the items for the meal I had decided to make. I got home and did a bit of marking to try to calm myself and get my mind off of the evening ahead. When I finished, I got up to put the chicken casserole together and get it into the oven.

When the casserole was in, I went upstairs to shower quickly and dress. I decided to wear a coral sweater - close enough to red, but not quite - and I had a new lipstick to match it. I left my hair down. Over the years other boyfriends had complimented my hair when it was down, so perhaps Martin would like it as well.

I went back downstairs to make the salad and at last I heard a knock and suddenly he was there. Martin with his tall frame filling my small doorway. I smiled and welcomed him in. He entered a bit cautiously I thought. I guessed that he was not used to going to women's homes very often - he didn't strike me as someone who had been with many others. I didn't know why, he just seemed such a loner.

He stood awkwardly, between the kitchen and lounge and so I invited him to sit down on the couch. I asked if he would like a drink and he requested water. Hmmm, I thought. No wine? Interesting. He accepted the water with thanks and sat down. I told him that I would sit for a moment as well, since the casserole still had a little while to cook. I got into my comfy arm chair and tried to relax.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Louisa

We sat in a tense silence for a few moments and at last I realized that I was going to have to be the one to speak. I asked if he had been to see Peter and he said that yes, he had been in the late morning and that Peter was progressing very well. I told him again how awful that whole experience was for me. But special too, in that he shared part of his story with me.

He blushed slightly and looked at the floor. There he was - the vulnerable man, the one behind the wall. So, a compliment of sorts could bring him near. Silence reigned again but this time I decided to just let it be. I took a few deep breaths and waited. At last Martin looked up and asked me about my day and I happily rambled on about the things that had gone on at the school and how many of the staff were so amazed at what he had accomplished with Peter.

"Well Louisa," he had said, " you know that I was only doing my job. If those forceps had only worked as they should, it would not have been nearly as 'exciting' as people seem to think. I used to perform operations like that on a routine basis so it was really nothing."

I couldn't believe he was being….what was it…..rather self-deprecating, I thought. "It was a lot more than nothing, Martin," I had said. "It was amazing that you deliberately chose to put yourself through all of that….it must have been terrible for you."

"I just did what my training and experience have taught me. The blood issue, as I told you, resulted from repeated exposure to a high pressure environnment. It is quite likely that having a break from that enabled me to follow through with the incision and subsequent activity," he had said.

"Martin, I think you aren't giving yourself enough credit," I had replied. "A lot of people would have likely not have been able to overcome such an 'Issue', as you call it, in such a pressured situation. I still think it was amazing."

Martin had then replied that I had likely never seen surgery before, and though critical, what he had done was basically a simple procedure. I could tell that he was not going to go in deeper about his feelings about the whole situation and so I decided to get up and check on the food. Everything was ready and so we sat down and began to eat. I had hoped Martin might have a compliment about the dinner but he said nothing. Finally I asked him if the meal suited him and he answered that it was delicious and certainly met his optimal nutritional requirements. But then he spoiled things a bit by saying that if I wanted to make the casserole even more healthy, perhaps I could use less butter and fat free chicken broth to cut down on the fats even more.

My cheeks reddened a bit. Why was he always rude? Why, I thought. I knew that I could have made the dish a bit more lean but the grocer had been out of the lower fat chicken broth and, as for the butter, the rice would stick if I hadn't used enough! I was merely following the recipe which, I informed him, had actually come from an old Portwenn village cookbook and had belong to his Auntie Joan.

He had then made some remark about Joan being a less than healthy role model when it came to food and perhaps I needed a newer, low fat cookbook. "Well then, I will go right out and buy one, Martin," I had replied somewhat acidly.

Immediately the room went quiet and I noticed that Martin tensed. He seemed to withdraw into himselft somehow. Too bad, I thought. If he is going to insult me, he needs to know that I will defend myself.

But as the silence between us stretched on, I deflated a bit. I began to think back about the things that were said and done in that ambulance and that taxi. If, as I had begun to think, Martin was a bit fragile, perhaps he meant no insult but was simply stating what he saw as his opintion. Granted, I would like for it to have been said differently but still, there was something about this man that drew me to him.

Martin's hand lay on the table, since he had stopped eating for a moment and was looking down. I reached out my hand and placed it lightly on his. I remember exactly what I said for I chose my words carefully. "Martin, when I go to someone's home for dinner, I try to always compliment their cooking and if there is something about it that I don't particularly like, I usually just keep quiet about it. Your frankness and medical advice sometimes come across harshly. But I want us to be friends you know."

He sat still for a moment and then relaxed a bit. He looked at our hands, lying lightly together on the table and lifted his eyes to mine. "I do like the casserole Louisa," he said, "it's just that you seemed to want to know about how I like things served - you did ask me when you invited me - and, as I said, I am always thinking like a doctor."

We finished dinner and I invited Martin to sit down on the couch again. This time, I sat on the other end and stretched my arm out along the back.. It was so lovely with the sun setting over the water. I then asked Martin what he did during the time when he wasn't working. He told me that the vast majority of his time was spent working but in the evenings, if he had time before spending time reading medical journals, he mended antique clocks. So solitary. No wonder he had so much trouble with conversation. I asked him to tell me about the clocks and he began to get a bit animated as he discussed his hobby. I understood that he had been interested in clocks and watches since he was a young boy and had torn apart and mended every clock he could find, much to his nanny's chagrin.

"Your nanny?" I had questioned. He then began to share about his parents and what seemed to me a complete lack of interest in their young son. He seemed to accept this as normal. I knew that if I had a child in my school with parents who acted the way that Martin's apparently had, I would likely be trying to intervene in some way.

I then asked him about coming to Portwenn as a child, since I had heard a part of his radio interview with my friend Caroline. His face relaxed more than I had seen it all evening as he told me of his summers with Joan. I made a remark that it was interesting that we had never met. "Perhaps we did," he said. "I am a bit older than you Louisa and you would have been a baby, most likely."

I had told him I wasn't that much younger than he was and I grinned. I made some remark about someone seeing him leave tonight and thinking he was robbing the cradle. He instantly looked shocked and frowned. "It was just a joke Martin," I had said.

I looked out of the window a bit at the beautiful picture placed before us and sighed. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I had asked. Martin looked out and then back at me. "Yes it is," he said in a velvety tone of voice I hadn't heard from him before. Inside I began to feel like that schoolgirl again, wanting his arms around me.

I just looked into his eyes. He sat perfectly still and so I moved closer and closer still. I looked down at my hands and waited. At last he put his fingers under my chin and lifted my head. He looked at me once more as if to gain permission and then kissed me gently. So gently. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back, with a bit more presure. He began to tangle his fingers in my hair as we continued to kiss.

I ran my fingers over his short hair, finding it so soft to my touch and a small sigh escaped my lips. Then I gripped him more tightly than before. He stopped for a moment and took off his suit jacket. He leaned toward me again and I began to tug at his tie to loosen it.

At last we pulled apart. We held each other's gaze a moment and then he dropped his eyes to his lap. I continued to softly touch his hair and then leaned over to nibble on his neck. Then I sat back and just looked at him. I said softly, "Martin, why don't you take off that tie and lean back on the sofa?"

He did as I asked and even unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. It made me feel so good inside to see him, Martin the uptight, Martin the grouch, Martin the rude, relaxed and giving me all of his attention. "I'm glad you came tonight Martin, I said."

"I am as well, Louisa. And I apologize if I hurt you with my remarks about dinner."

"Shush," I said and kissed him again. "Can I tell you a secret Martin?" I asked.

"Yes, Louisa. I always keep patients' conversations confidential," he said.

"Not a medical secret," I had said. Then I began to tell him about the fact that, the other night at the dance, I had wished and wished that he would come, and then he was there and I was afraid he might think I was beginning a relationship with Mark when nothing was further from the truth.

He had replied that he had wondered if that was happening but that Mark had made it clear to him that it was not.

I told him that yes, before I could talk to Mark, he had come to me himself and said that the dance had been great but that he really didn't see a future for us. I said that I had chuckled to myself but hadn't wanted to hurt Mark's feelings.

"What do you see in your future, Martin?" I had asked him.

He had looked down at his hands and then up at me. He swallowed. "Being a GP I suppose. Maybe one day going back into surgery but I haven't given that much thought lately."

And then I did it. I asked him, "What have you given your thoughts to?"

"You," he said.


End file.
